IShowSpeed:Never Stop Dreaming!

The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzed in the locker room as the team filed in after the match, their laughter and chatter echoing against the tiled walls. The air smelled of sweat, grass, and the faint tang of victory—a scent that clung to Dante's skin even as adrenaline still pulsed faintly in his veins.

"You crushed it out there, Walker!" Ethan clapped Dante on the shoulder with a grin. "Coach has to put you in for the first team after that goal."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Dante replied with a half-smile, though the fire of hope burned hot in his chest.

"Don't let it go to your head, rookie," Jack said as he passed, his tone sharp despite the faint smirk tugging at his lips. "One goal doesn't make you a star."

Dante's fists clenched instinctively, but he forced himself to stay calm. Let it go. Focus on your game.

"Walker, a word."

Coach Brooks' voice cut through the noise, and the room fell silent as Dante turned to face him. The weight of a dozen gazes settled on his shoulders as he followed the coach into the hallway, the sound of his cleats echoing against the concrete floor.

The air was cooler out here, tinged with the faint scent of rain drifting in from the open exit at the end of the corridor. Brooks stopped near the door, folding his arms across his chest as he studied Dante with a gaze that seemed to see straight through him.

"You've made progress," Brooks said, his tone measured but firm. "But you're not there yet. The first team trials are in two weeks. If you want a shot, you need to prove that tonight wasn't a fluke. Consistency is what separates good players from great ones."

"I can do it," Dante replied without hesitation, the words tasting like steel on his tongue.

"Then show me." With that, Brooks turned and walked away, leaving Dante standing in the hallway with the faint echo of his footsteps still ringing in his ears.

Outside the Stadium

The night air was cool and damp as Dante stepped outside, the distant hum of city traffic blending with the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. The soft drizzle from earlier had faded into a light mist, clinging to the air like a whispered promise of rain.

As he adjusted the strap of his bag, a familiar voice called out from nearby.

"Nice goal tonight."

Dante turned, his pulse jumping slightly as he spotted Sophie leaning against the railing near the entrance. The glow of the streetlights caught in her auburn hair, and her green eyes seemed to catch the faint light in a way that made something in his chest tighten.

"Thanks," he replied, the tension from his conversation with Brooks easing slightly at the sound of her voice.

"You looked more confident out there," Sophie said as she stepped closer, her smile faint but warm. "Faster, too."

"Yeah… still a long way to go, though," Dante admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Coach says I need to be more consistent if I want a shot at the first team."

"Sounds like he sees potential in you," Sophie replied, her gaze steady.

"Or he's just waiting for me to screw up," Dante muttered before he could stop himself.

Sophie tilted her head slightly, studying him with a gaze that seemed to see past the words. "You're too hard on yourself," she said softly.

Dante opened his mouth to respond, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he looked away, the faint ache of doubt tightening in his chest like a knot he couldn't untangle.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the distant hum of traffic and the faint rustle of leaves filling the air between them.

"You'll figure it out," Sophie said finally, her voice quiet but certain. "You just need to trust yourself as much as everyone else does."

Before Dante could think of what to say, Sophie offered a small smile and turned to leave, her footsteps fading into the night.

As he watched her go, the knot of doubt in his chest seemed to loosen slightly, though the weight of expectation still lingered like a shadow just beyond his reach.

The Following Week: Training

The faint scent of damp grass and earth clung to the air as Dante sprinted across the pitch, his breath coming in ragged bursts as sweat clung to his skin. The steady thud of the ball against his cleats echoed through the air, each touch sharp and controlled as he weaved through the cones with renewed focus.

"Come on, Walker—faster!" Coach Brooks shouted from the sidelines.

Dante gritted his teeth, pushing harder as his muscles burned with exertion. The faint sting of sweat in his eyes blurred his vision, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the ball at his feet and the invisible line between him and the goal.

With a final burst of speed, he cut past the last cone and fired the ball toward the net. The sharp thud of leather against mesh sent a jolt of satisfaction through his chest as the ball struck the back of the net.

"Yes!" The word burst from his lips before he could stop it.

"Better!" Brooks called. "But don't stop now—again!"

Dante wiped the sweat from his brow and jogged back to the starting line, his breath still ragged but his pulse steady with determination. Each sprint, each shot, each moment of exhaustion was a step closer to the dream he'd been chasing since the day he woke up in this world.

Later That Day: At the Café

The warm scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air as Dante stepped into the café near the stadium, the faint hum of conversation and clinking dishes blending into a comforting backdrop. The soft glow of hanging lights cast a cozy warmth over the wooden tables and worn leather chairs, offering a brief refuge from the cool drizzle outside.

Spotting Ethan at their usual table, Dante made his way over and slid into the seat opposite him.

"Thought you could use a break from training," Ethan said, pushing a steaming mug of coffee toward him.

"Thanks," Dante replied, wrapping his hands around the mug and letting the warmth seep into his fingers. The faint bitterness of the coffee mixed with the sweet aroma of pastries, grounding him in the moment.

"So… you gonna talk to her, or just keep staring from a distance?" Ethan asked with a knowing grin.

"What are you talking about?" Dante asked, though the heat rising in his cheeks betrayed him.

"Oh, come on. Sophie. You two keep running into each other like it's fate or something."

"It's not like that," Dante muttered, taking a sip of coffee to hide his smile.

"Sure it's not," Ethan replied, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Just saying… she seems to believe in you. Might be worth seeing where that goes."

Dante didn't reply, but the warmth that settled in his chest at Ethan's words lingered long after their conversation shifted to the upcoming trials.

Later That Night: Reflections

The faint hum of the city drifted through the half-open window of Dante's room, mingling with the distant patter of rain against the pavement. The air smelled faintly of rain and autumn leaves, grounding him in the quiet stillness of the night.

Seated at the edge of his bed, Dante rolled a soccer ball beneath his foot, the familiar motion grounding his restless thoughts as his gaze drifted toward the ceiling.

Consistency. Focus. Control.

But beneath the familiar rhythm of those words was the memory of Sophie's voice, soft but certain as she told him to trust himself.

And for the first time in a long time, the future didn't seem quite so far out of reach.

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